The seeds of dissent were sewn on an earlier voyage when Matt the Hootle proposed a journey beginning at Market Cross heading to Millington. “The cafe is not open on Tuesday” advised Greybeard at which point the Admiral piped on board with an alternative route. “Wah!” wailed Greybeard “I don’t want to meet at Market Cross. I don’t like that road” throwing his cutlass to the floor in a mock fit of pique. In an effort to reestablish his authority Matt then rejigged the route for Allerthorpe.
Fast forward to Friday and it was Greybeard’s turn to propose a route to the Farm Shop meeting at Manor House at 0945. It has been said that revenge is best served with a cold custard pie in the face, so no sooner had the rallying call gone out than Matt the Hootle lobbed his pie. “Wah!” he wailed mockingly “I don’t like that road. Can we meet at Market Cross 0930?”. Unfortunately not everyone saw the funny side as Michael Fastender suggested going to both places, then the Admiral began questioning the sanity of “Mr Grumpy”.
Twelve Knights “climbed aboard” the “Friday Rider” at Manor House. While waiting for the appointed hour to “set sail”, the Admiral started handing out our new club socks. ✴️Pow✳️sock✴️pow✳️sock✴️ a bit like a superhero cartoon strip though not to be mistaken for the verbal fisticuffs from earlier.
“OK folks, the tide is right, let’s set sail” cried Greybeard reinforcing his authority as ‘head of the table’ aboard the “Friday Rider”. The sun beamed down as we travelled out towards Cherry Burton and Etton. With light winds it was quite pleasant to be out. Our first challenge soon arrived as Greybeard sent us all up the “crows nest” aka Kiplingcotes Race Course “just to avoid the gravelly Spring Road”. On reaching the top, we turned towards Goodmanham and Market Weighton.
Our next challenge came soon after as we made our way up Intake Hill then past Londesborough towards Nunburnholme top. Climbing for a little over two miles with gentle gradients including some ramps up to 7% soon saw the fleet strung out.
After regrouping we continued our passage towards Warter top. Along the way, the good ship Jenny sprung a leak and needed repairing. Luckily there were enough “hands on deck” to assist and we were soon on our way once more. On reaching the bottom of the hill, shouts of “GRAVEL” rang out followed by the crunching of gears as we exited onto a short uphill ramp as we turned towards the east. This was followed by a lovely long downhill blast along Dalton Dale into North Dalton.
The final leg to the “bunker” station continued along the main road then through Bainton and Southburn before reaching the port of Hutton Cranswick. The fleet then “anchored” around the back of the local chandlery (aka Farm Shop) to take on board various supplies. Many were tempted by the scrumpy… I mean scrummy cakes on offer. Sensible as ever though, the vice Admiral ordered poached eggs on toast. “Sorry we’re not serving breakfast now no poached eggs” she was told, before opting for an sandwich alternative. A little later as the victuals began to arrive at the table, the “chandler” called out “Who ordered the beans on toast with poached egg on top?” I’m not sure if that was annoyance or a flummoxed look that appeared on the face of the vice admiral as she decided to keep schtum pulling an imaginary zip across her lips. Next time she’ll have to order the beans with egg on top, just “hold” the beans.
On the journey home we were slightly hampered heading into the south-south-westerly wind following our usual route over Bracken then across to South Dalton before retracing our way through Etton and Cherry Burton to end another crackin’ roller-coaster ride.