July 10, 2024
To Bridlington
One thing about the last two days - they’ve made us skittish about the weather again. It was sobering staring out the door of both of our last two restaurants, imagining ourselves out on the bikes ten or more miles from shelter. Unfortunately it looks like we’re staring at a week or two of unstable weather ahead and we anticipate some painful decisions about whether to change our itinerary. We’ll take things one day at a time of course - it’s just a forecast of course, so there’s no point dwelling on what we might face three days from now - but it won’t be surprising if the coming days are a bit ragged.
Starting with today and tomorrow, when we’re due to arrive at the hotel we’ve booked two nights in Flamborough, about 35 miles away. For tonight we’re booked at an inn that’s roughly halfway there, in Weaverthorpe. After gaming out the alternatives though, we’re not going to Weaverthorpe after all. It’s too late to cancel, so it’s a write-off - is this the first time of the trip? I can’t recall for sure, but I think this happened once before, or maybe even twice. It’s like flat tires, another trip metric I should probably keep track of.
Why? The weather obviously. It’s only 13 miles to Weaverthorpe and we’ve got at least a half day of dry weather today, so that’s not the issue. It’s tomorrow, when it looks to be wet and windy all day. It doesn’t make sense to us to bike 13 miles on the dry day and then 25 on the wet and windy one, so we pick a new destination. There’s nothing available tonight in Flamborough itself but there’s a room available at the Premier Inn in Bridlington, a seaside resort just the other side of Flamborough Head, so that’s the goal for today. One day at a time.
We leave our cold hotel room around ten and bike east out of town. The plan is to just bike, but I have to hold us up briefly to take a couple of quick snaps at the charming toddler brigade ambling down the sidewalk.
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After that I behave myself and only stop a couple of times over the next thirty miles a we bike through the reasonably gentle Yorkshire Wolds. I don’t even stop for a photo of the River Derwent when we cross it on the way out of town, but I’ve got some regrets. I’m remembering Derwent Water, one of the lakes in the Lake District, and am surprised that its outfall makes it this far to the east and thinking I should take a shot of it. Later though I’ll read up on the Derwent to see where it goes and see that it’s another case of duplicate names. The Derwent River originates here in the North York Moors and empties into the Ouse on its way to York and beyond. There’s no relation at all to Derwent Water.
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Video sound track: Desperate Man Blues, by John Fahey
We make it to Bridlington dry but hungry and head straight to the waterfront looking for the first reasonable spot we can find. Bridlington’s a seaside resort, and this part of the strip is just a little obnoxious. We find a place that does well enough for us though and for the next hour we enjoy our meals sitting at a window side table staring at the sea. There’s a tense moment when we place our orders through their app using Rachael’s phone and see that our orders won’t arrive for 45 minutes. We’ve already paid so there’s nothing to do but sit and gripe, so we do. It doesn’t turn out that way though, as the drinks arrive the minute Rachael leaves for the restroom, and the food shows up almost as soon as she returns.
We check in at the Premier Inn right at 3, the earliest you can check in there without an early arrival fee. They’re not quaint and full of character, but we’re realizing that Premier Inns are actually a pretty good solution for us. For one, they offer a one day cancellation so they’re flexible that way. Also, they offer early breakfasts (6:30), they’re roomy, and in an especially nice touch they have heat.
We spend the afternoon staying inside and keeping warm and comfortable, but later in the day I fortify myself with some ibuprofen and step out for a walk north along the beach. I’m not too impressed by the commercial/tourist heart of Bridlington, but the walk north along the beach is a quiet delight. There’s a promenade that lasts about a half mile, and after that there’s a beach walk above the high tide mark that continues at least all the way to rhe start of the chalk cliffs that line Flamborough Head.
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Looks pretty similar to the Orygun coast, climate wise.
3 months ago
I’m glad you brought this up though because there are no bluebirds in England, something I hadn’t thought of before. It turns out that bluebird was the old English name for swallows and house martins, and the song refers to them returning in the spring - and the airmen, of course.
3 months ago
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Today's ride: 31 miles (50 km)
Total: 2,651 miles (4,266 km)
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