“Hello Kevin; Hello Kevin” – sometimes we need something as simple as that to think of a theme for the latest blog. How Puggy keeps thinking of different, fresh themes week in week out I’ll never know. Anyway, Python Neil and Python Mark are on top form as they reel off joke after joke, getting filthier and filthier as we enjoy our beans with brown toast (which I’ll never view the same again….) The parrot joke is probably the cleanest we can consume on our fine website, and it goes something like…. Wife buys parrot at a bargain priceOwner says “it’s cheap because it used to live in a brothel”. Wife brings parrot back home, Parrot sees husband and says “hello Kevin, hello Kevin”. I know – not that funny – but it’s the way Python Neil tells them. There’s a space open for you on the comedy circuit Neil!

So, 9 Knights gather on time at Manor House. We have………….Python Matt, Python Dave, Python Heather, Python Mark, Python Routemaster Ray, Python Russ, Python Neil, Python Karl, Python Michael. The Pollyton sets off down our usual route to Middleton, via Cherry, Etton, South Dalton and Holme on the Wolds and the weather is wonderful; the sky a delightful Norwegian Blue. Arriving at Middleton, Python Routemaster Ray shouts “don’t miss the first turn left”. “What do you mean miss?” shouts the Pollyton right back – “we know where we are going!”. And we are going an alternate route to the top of Nunburnholme hill, one which this author says he’s never done before but will no doubt go back home and find he’s got several previous Strava segments to his name from this same route. If you want to get where you want to be, do not follow Michael (or Heather for that matter)…

The front group wait at the usual spot at the top of the hill with total lack of movement due to being tired and shagged out following a prolonged climb. Python Routemaster Ray joins the Pollyton to explain that Python Dave and Python Russ have been held back due to a puncture. As Ray explains, “his innertube has ceased to be. It’s expired and gone to meet its maker. It’s a stiff, bereft of life, it rests in peace … it’s shuffled off its mortal coil … THIS IS AN EX-INNERTUBE!”

Two tables reserved at the delightful Fiddle Drill (thanks Python Heather), the front group arrives and Python Matt checks his watch for the latest Slack goss. There’s a message from evergreen Jim……. “I wish to register a complaint!”… Jim has valid concerns about the proximity of the start and end points of the proposed Knights sprint section to potential danger spots, so Python Neil suggests doing a reccy to find a safer alternative. And so we do.

Food devoured, we are ready for the off. Matt sports his new gaiter over his head rather than the conventional neck option. With sweat dripping from his forehead, he’s clearly pining for the fjords. Python Routemaster Ray insists on going over the top rather than the more sedate Kiplingcotes option, to which Neil does well to avoid throwing a tanty. Amidst the usual bickering about incorrect directions, the Pollyton ride through the delightful Dalton estate and then back home via the usual route.

A delightful ride but I’m not prepared to pursue this blog any longer as I think this is getting too silly. Quite agree, quite agree, too silly, far too silly………………..

Till May is out – Knights get a soaking

Routemeister Ray has today chosen a flat ride East, following last week’s hillathon. The Great Raymondo had split the Knights into 3 groups:
In Group 1  ‘Express Train’ we have Andy, Captain, Colin, Mark and Michael
In Group 2 ‘Stopping Train’ (what did Ray know that we didn’t – read on) we have Chris, Karl, Neil, Heather and Mike, and joined by Knights veteran Martin 
And finally Group 3 ‘The Shunters’ is comprised of ‘SJN’ (Steve to the rest of us), Ray, Matt, Russ and Seadog

This author arrives early for about the first time ever, to find that there’s already half a dozen eager Knights already waiting. Colin isn’t one of them, obvs…. We notice there’s a few brave (or stupid) Knights amongst us, with Karl, Matt (also obvs) and Ray modelling their freshly shaved legs. “Never cast a clout til May is out” shouts Mark, which I haven’t heard in years, but makes me chuckle and realise my choice of full winter attire was the right one. “Bright but chilly” a weather forecaster might not say.

The Express Train sets off with appropriately rapid speed. Picking up Isle of Man diaspora Andy en route, the train is averaging an impressive 18MPH, with Captain and Mark (only need a Phillip for pun hilarity) taking the bulk of the engine room. The train is briefly stopped in its tracks; first for a particularly impatient single carriage train behind beeping its horn (which was greeted, equally impetuously, by this author flicking the proverbial Vs – this will no doubt get me in trouble one day, when driver stops and gives me a good hiding), and second when Colin stops to pick up something that he thinks has fallen out of Andy’s pocket – an empty packet of fags. Nasty habit Andy!

The Express train takes the scheduled route through Brandesburton, Bewholme, Beeford and Foston and arriving at Hutton Cranswick station in double quick time. Refreshments duly ordered, and duly scoffed, we are joined by the Stopping Train, which had equally lived up to its name by getting a puncture en route, with Chris the unlucky recipient. The Stopping Train are thus incredulous to find that they have arrived at the Station ahead of the Shunters, who has passed them in Leven when Chris was undertaking major repairs. It turns out that the Stopping Train had taken not one but two unscheduled detours, playing havoc with the rail network.  The system is there for a reason dontcha know!!

As the Express train is about to set off, the Shunters arrive, having rightly stuck to the schedule. And as the Express train has travelled barely a mile it happens. First light rain. Then heavy rain. Then light hailstone. Then heavy hailstone. Then a further downpour to finish the job. It lasts only 10 minutes or so but is very unpleasant, not to mention painful with those stones bouncing off our cold, bare cheeks. The only solace we can find is that we’d rather be enduring it on our bike’s with satisfied bellies than back at the Station with no shelter.

Sorry Stopping Train and Shunters! I can only imagine the look on Mike ‘WP’ Straw’s no doubt grumpy face as he bites into his dripping wet bacon sarnie! I can equally see Neil’s stern look as I hand him back the now sodden ‘Way of the Roses’ map which had been in my back pocket and taken the brunt of the (Floyd) May Weather…. Thanks for lending it me Neil!!

Clear skies once more, we make steady progress through Bracken, South Dalton, Etton and home. Big shout out to Steve who for no other reason than ‘cos I’m a stubborn sod’ (or words to that effect) decided to ride the whole route in a single gear. Complete waste of time and energy if you ask me (I’ll definitely be replicating said feat soon) but well worth a ‘Walster Chapeau’.

Another great ride with splendid organisation from the Greet Raymondo. It’s great to be back riding in a group again. Until next time…

Saturday night 10pm – still only two takers for the BK Sunday club ride. Has ‘hill hunter’ James put people off with his ‘60-70 mile’ route with circa 3,500 foot of ascent including ‘the fourth hardest climb in East Yorkshire’ (although technically I think West Heslerton is in North Yorkshire). Or was it the 9am start time? Whatever it is, only ‘hill hunter’ and ‘segment hunter’ Michael have signed up.

We meet at the usual MC rendezvous point and ‘the beer hunter’ Paul has turned up too. Although he had ‘a good few’ ales last night, including a pint and a half at Nellies who’s new business plan appears to be to charge double the pre-lockdown prices, thus losing their own USP overnight (it won’t work Sam Smith wherever you are), he was up and ready to start at this new early time – which used to be the normal time, but now appears to be the old normal not the new normal.

We set off on the usual route to Huggate, via Cherry, Etton, South Dalton, Middleton and North Dalton, so we have to do the Dalton to Huggate drag, which this author dislikes intensely. I mean, I don’t mind hills. But there has to be a point to them. Like Elloughton Dale I did in the peeing down rain yesterday – the scenery is so beautiful you don’t realise you’re slogging up a 10 percenter. Or if there’s a reward when you get to the top – a great café (whether the café in Huggate can be described as ‘great’ very much depends on your liking for buns….). But the three mile stretch has none of this – it’s just a steaming pile of meh. But what’s this? We’re turning right before we get into Huggate and we’re treated to the most gorgeous descent in to Wetwang. Segment hunter squeals in delight “James – this is beautiful. I’ve never been down it before, only up it.” No sooner have we got to the bottom and Strava beeps at segment hunter to inform him he’s talking bollocks as usual. York Road climb is upon us and segment hunter’s bike computer is flashing ‘go go go – your PB is x and you need to beat it. Segment hunter ignores it – “I will not be chasing segments today” he confidently claims. Hmmmm, think hill hunter and beer hunter.

We hit the category 4 climb ‘life hill’ and hill hunter can finally open his legs and show his class (© David Coleman). We soon see why James has recently recorded the best ever time by a Knight (Apart from Brett, obvs) on the challenging Brantingham Dale climb. Since he bought his new bike a few months ago his improvement has been immense. Chapeau! as our Mark would say. Talking of Mark, we saw him heading North in North Yorkshire somewhere while we were heading South. Was it the 9am Mark, or just the company? It certainly wasn’t the distance century man (or maybe it was – only not far enough!!

We reach what we’ve all been waiting for – Col de Spellowgate, according to Strava. Hill hunter sprints off like Lance Armstrong after a visit to the ‘doctor’. He’s closely followed by an impressive beer hunter, his Duncan ‘good few’ last night doing nothing to slow him down. Segment hunter has a cunning plan – stop and take a photo – thanks Ray for giving me that idea to save face when struggling.. And here is said photo….

If you look closely, you should be able to see beer hunter in the background. Hill hunter is some way further ahead – indeed the post-strava ‘white gate official Yorkshire climbs’ segment reveals an impressive time of 5 mins 25 secs for James, with beer hunter a minute or so behind and segment hunter still at the bottom taking photos………

We carry on South towards Driffield and segment hunter praises hill hunter again for such a beautiful route. “I’ve never been here before” he says assuredly. But then bike computer beeps again telling him it’s the ‘Croome Dale to Cowlam’ segment – you’ve got to beat your PB’. This time, segment hunter can’t help but live up to his name and shoots off with no warning to his comrades.

We arrive into Driffield not before a hair raising 43 MPH descent – was safe, honest, twenty’s plenty campaigners. Arriving at Bike Cave, the beer hunter is aghast that it seems to be takeaway only and suggests we go somewhere else so we can sit down. Apparently though, it IS takeaway only, but you can sit down in the premises to consume the takeaway. No, me neither. Whatever, we decide to stay and we get a much needed huge sandwich and liquid refreshments.

We agree to head back via Skerne and Hutton Cranswick and from there the main road back home. Beer hunter takes a strange detour through what seems to be an industrial estate. Alas, it’s a brewery – Paul wants to make sure it’s open post-lockdown so he can sample their real ale once again.

We get to Hutton Cranswick and an impromptu chain gang follows, with each of us taking a turn at the front (what do you mean you know what a bloody chain gang is) and arrive into Leconfield for hill hunter’s departure, then a slow meander back into Beverley. What a brilliant ride. Stunning views. Challenging climbs. And good company. Until next time………

With Captain Pugwash quarantined in the highly infected area of the Peak District, this week’s blog comes courtesy of Michael, who, hopefully, remains one of the few who remains Corona-Virus-Free.

It’s a cold morning but the sun is shining bright. The brave, committed and sturdy Knights – nine in total – the only ones yet to be succumbed to the deadly virus, meet at Manor House at the slightly later time of 10.00am – the Cobra Committee giving them clearance at the final hour. Three of these apparently immune brave soldiers had taken little notice of government directives and meet 15 minutes earlier at Market Cross.

Chad, James and Michael nonchalantly pedal away to meet the rest of the brave Knights – but what’s this? Westwood hill is upon us and Chad – clearly knowing that he hasn’t been given the all clear – self isolates and proceeds to sprint, leaving James and Michael way behind. We best avoid any contact with this deviant………..

We regroup at Manor House – with Chris, Steve, Russ, Seadog Dave, Karl and Ray already waiting. It is noticeable that all nine Knights have face masks (head gear) on – despite government advice that masks provide no protection. But, rightly, we don’t trust the present Johnson-esque incumbents and take precautions nonetheless. Luckily it was cold, so our apparent innocence prevails.

Routemaster Ray suggests a route that takes us to Goodmanham, via rural areas largely unaffected, through Newbald North, Newbald South, Hotham, North and South Cliffe and Inner Sancton, where we regroup to check we’re all okay. At this point, Karl reveals that he’s been ill during all of February. Was he holding back that he’d already caught the virus? Was he secretly trying to infect the remaining eight apparently indestructibles? No, he assures the crew – it was just a case of man flu (apparently).

We ascend, then descend Sancton hill, and regroup at the bottom. But what’s this? Chris – who had clearly not been vaccinated against punctures (hence his earlier incident in inner Sancton), veers off home. Has Karl infected him? Is he one of those carriers who happily infects others but is immune himself? The jury is out…….

The remaining 8 head off to the Fiddle Drill. Surprisingly, it is busy. With little space, Steve sits in the isolation pod. Bad move, as it is reserved for someone more susceptible to Co-vid 19. We are clearly not the only ones yet to succumb to Corona.

As we eat our hopefully uninfected nourishment, Ray is at his comedic best. Michael mentions he’s hoping to do El Teide next year for his 50th birthday when in Tenerife with his wife. “I did El Teide last year”, says Ray. “Wow”, says Michael……………….. “In a Vauxhall Sephora”, says Ray…..

And the humorous tip of the day also comes from Ray. “If you’re knackered up a hill, save face when getting off your bike knackered. Get your camera out and pretend you’re taking a photo while recovering”. Great tip Ray – I’ll do that! And Ray’s comedic genius isn’t over as his second tip of the day is revealed. “Shoot a line of coke before you set off and there ain’t no mountain high enough.” Marvellous!

The uninfected Knights (notably poached eggs were not allowed) head back home, via the usual route, apart from a lovely detour through the ‘Pipe and Glass estate’. This was halted slightly – a huge gathering of posh stiff upper lip hunter types on horses – hundreds of them. If the Knights did politics (which we don’t) I’d say more…….

If we’re still Coronavirus free next week, we’ll see you then! Until then , keep healthy!

With Captain Jesus of Pugwash sacrificing himself and taking a well earned rest – apparently to rise again into the saddle on Sunday – it’s left to one of his apostles, Saint Michael, to take over blog duties this week.

It’s 9.30 on a bright if chilly morning, and Captain Jesus’ apostles are ready to ride to their last supper. But hang on, there’s only eleven of us. Judas has betrayed us. Well, we’re not waiting for him – we’ll have to set off with just the 11.

Saint Neil muses that it’s a funny time of year. You never know quite what to wear with the unpredictable weather. But it’s a special occasion and the apostles are looking fine in their blue and yellow attire – although some with long trousers may regret it later, with warm weather forecast.

So the eleven apostles head off towards Huggate anti-clockwise for optimum wind protection. And we have….
Saint David, Saint Jenny, Saint James, John the Apostle (he did actually exist!), Saint Matthew (so did he), Saint Heather, Saint Russell, Saint Stephen the Doubter, Saint Neil, Saint Mark the Hungover, Saint Michael

Heading the usual route to South Dalton, the apostles then take a delightful detour, heading East and then North to Kirkburn on a very traffic light road. Saint Heather takes to the front with Saint Michael and some gentle chit-chat made for a very pleasant ride. All going swimmingly until Saint Michael thinks the route to the Last Supper is left, and brakes accordingly (without signalling it has to be said). He soon feels the wrath of those behind (probably Saint Matthew) for braking unexpectedly and almost causing an unfortunate incident resulting in several apostles piling on top of each other. Disaster averted, and with sweaty psalms, the disciples begin their slog from Tibthorpe to Huggate. With Nunburnholme hill unanimously rejected, the apostles instead opt for the alternative, which is still a painful bugger.

The reward is a long descent into Market Weighton, before a weary uphill to The Fiddle Drill, where our now depleted apostles will consume their Last Supper, with John the Apostle, Saint David, Saint Jenny and Saint James diverting home.

Disaster – an alternative reality group of apostles are also enjoying their last supper and The Fiddle Drill are so busy they’re unable to provide poached Easter eggs. Saint Matthew has given up slushy green stuff for lent, and instead opts for a coffee. Saint Russel is thwarted in his attempts to quench his thirst, with his tea refusing to arrive. Unlike Saint Stephen, who keeps getting refills of coffee he didn’t order.

Saint Neil comes up with an idea to have a club helmet in blue and yellow, although this is quickly quashed by Saint Stephen, who didn’t share Saint Michael’s earlier enthusiasm. You can always depend on a newbie to be accommodating to new ideas, bad or otherwise….. To be fair, Saint Stephen has a point. As Saint Matthew declares, we can’t have the same helmets, we’d all be too close together….. Comedy gold!

Last Supper consumed and the last leg of our journey. The apostles arrive at Etton and Saint Neil orders his troops to catch up to the ‘man in yellow’. Saint Heather crucifies the rest of the troops, although doesn’t catch up this mysterious yellow man. Despite it being his order, Saint Neil the disciple lacked discipline and can’t be bothered to go through with it. Instead he watches Saint Heather’s, albeit in vain efforts along with the rest of us.

A lovely ride had by all and a reminder should we need it that retirement gives so much opportunity for cycling heaven. As Saint Neil says to Saint Mark who is considering early retirement, “because you get grumpy in retirement, it makes you happy”. Here’s to grumpiness!

Thanks fellow apostles for a great ride.
Saint Michael