Uphill All The Way – Is this God’s Country? (York to Thirsk)

Published on: 7 Jun, 2014
Updated on: 19 Jun, 2014

This is the eleventh report on the author’s progress in his bid to cycle from Guildford to Edinburgh. The reports follow: Uphill All The Way – The Idea and Uphill All The Way – The Plan (Part One) and Uphill All The Way – The Plan (Part Two)

All Uphill All The Way articles can be found under the Leisure section heading on the front page, in their own sub-section called Uphill All The Way.

By Martin Giles

Yorkshiremen immodestly say that their county is “God’s country”.

Of course, that sticks in the craw of a Surrey man but even I have to admit, after a beautiful cycle ride from York to Thirsk, in sunshine, that there might be something in it. Perhaps he dealt with Yorkshire after he finished Surrey? Anyway, I probably had the best day’s cycling yet.

The brown line shows my route from York up to Thirsk.

I could have worn my shorts. They are about the only bit of kit I have been carrying that I have not yet used.

As with Lincoln I had left York reluctantly. Not only is it full of interest and history, it is well laid out, especially for cyclists, and has many attractive buildings and streets. Additionally my loft lodgings were of a great standard with a kind and helpful hostess, Theolyn.

My lodgings in York a converted loft booked through airbnb. Recommended.

I had spent the afternoon of my rest day at the National Railway Museum, close to the station. I was very impressed. They have a wonderful collection of locomotives, many are among the most famous names in British railway history such as the Mallard, City of Truro and Evening Star.

The Mallard – still a legend and still the holder of the speed record for a steam locomotive.

The engines and carriages are allowed to take centre stage and the ground level views reinforce their scale and power. Simple information boards give just enough additional information but do not overwhelm with detail.

Joe Duddington the Mallard’s record breaking driver, second from the left, doing his impression of someone’s grandad. Good to see he dressed up for the occasion.

The museum is free, fitting perhaps when the subject is one the belongs to the whole nation, but I could not resist paying an extra £3 to have a go in the virtual experience capsule of the Mallard’s record breaking run. I was on my own the only big kid around it seemed but I consider it money well spent.

A yong boy is held up to see how the other half lived in days gone by in a royal railway carriage complete with a proper bed. Another had a full length bath but there were still doors to allow the guard through to check tickets.

The views from platform level of the royal train interiors are interesting as was, for me, the mail sorting carriage.

This on board sorting office from a time before email and other digital communication. Postal services were extremely efficient and next day delivery was reliable. Mail bags could be collected and dropped while the train was on the move.

The railways employed half a million employees in the post war period including my father. In fact, I am, I believe, the first Giles of my line not to work on the railways since John Giles (I think it was John) moved from farm work in East Horsley around 1840 to work on the railway and live at Worplesdon.

This is the kind of train frequently seen in Guildford an electric multiple unit in service until the early 1960s.

My Great Grandfather was a ganger who worked on the main London to Southampton line at the time it was doubled from two to four tracks to allow express trains unhindered progress, and my Grandfather worked on the Necropolis Line at Brookwood.

So perhaps my interest is in my genes, although I suspect that most men, boys and many women share my interest. The railways really were an important part of our history and most of us have memories associated with them, at least as passengers.

One of the exhibits was a Southern Region electric train that only went out of service in the early 1960s. I could certainly remember travelling on trains that were the same or very similar, i.e. with compartments but no corridor.

Older readers will recall this type of railway compartment.

It was a relaxed visit. I had only myself to please and I did not try to cover everything. I think that is a mistake in any museum. Allow yourself to leave wanting more. Hopefully there will be another time.

Considering York is an official cycling city I was surprised that my bike was the only one parked outside. It looked a bit forlorn on its own.

My lonely Raleigh tourer, outside the National Rail Museum, faithfully waiting for my return.

The next morning (Friday) presented a clear blue sky. I had 31 miles to cycle to Thirsk a town I was looking forward to visiting.

The riverside cycle lane from Fulford to York. Just one of a whole network.

Using the excellent cycle lanes from my base at Fulford for the last time, I was in the city in about ten minutes and after a short stop at a bike shop, to buy a replacement spare tube, I found the signs for National Cycle Route 65 which I would be following most , but not all, of the way.

I was soon out in the meadows just north of York.

I was soon out among meadows on an off-road foot/cycle path. There were cattle and wildflowers and, with the sun having its normal positive effect and everyone’s mood, practically everyone I encountered had a cheery word.

Is this God’s country? It was certainly looking beautiful in the June sun.

It really was delightful cycling and seemed to get even better as I proceeded. The route criss-crossed the main east coast line so I was entertained with current rolling stock following my examination of their predecessors at the museum.

In view of the good weather I had bought the makings of a picnic and told myself that I could stop to have it once at least half the miles had been covered. However, once I was over half way I could find nowhere suitable.

The ground was still damp so I really needed a bench or some sort of dry seat, preferably with a view. My preference for a view amuses my family but I maintain that it adds to the pleasure of a picnic considerably.

Helperby is an attractive and well kept Yorkshire village with friendly inhabitants and a good looking though sadly unvisited, by me, pub.

Eventually, when I was well over half way I rode into Helperby. It was an attractive and well kept village. I could not help a longing glance at the pub imagining the cool pints that could be served but instead I asked a lady dog walker with a disobedient and yappy dog if there was a village green. After a little thought she seemed to surprise herself by concluding that there was, a bit further on, on the left.

An older man who had been watching, out of earshot asked, as I drew level, if I were lost? I think he was annoyed that he as a village elder had not been consulted regarding directions. I told him I was heading to the village green down on the left. He did a double take, surprised at my detailed local knowledge.

When I arrived the green was more of a field than a green and not really suitable for my requirements, however nearby was a churchyard and a bench. An elderly gent was getting some tools out of his car.

“You been cycling?” he asked. As I had just dismounted in front of him it seemed a rather redundant question. I think might have realised because without waiting for an answer he said: “I am here to tend my parents grave.”

“That’s good,” I said it had seemed a strange opener to a conversation but to put him at his ease I added, “Everything around here seems pretty well tended.” It was no more than the truth but I think he appreciated the comment.

“I was brought up here,” he said proudly, “before moving to Easingwold,”He made it sound as if he had emigrated but it was a village, I recognised from the road signs as being, only a few miles away. “But I moved back eventually.” He added with relief. “Eh. Do you like history?

“Yes, I do.” We had found some common ground.

“You’ll like this memorial. It was only put up last year.”

The memorial to the seven airmen killed in a Halifax bomber which crashed in the fields in view behind.

The memorial was to a mostly Canadian aircrew who had all been killed when their Halifax bomber crashed a few fields away.

“They were only young chaps, all from Canada except one Englishman. I can remember the Canadians coming to the village to swim in the river. I can remember the morning of the crash too. A couple of my mates were the first ones to get to it.”

He was talking to me as if I had been a friend he known for years rather than a stranger he did not know from Adam. I did not mind in the slightest, after all someone who is tending a grave almost certainly has a good heart.

He toddled off to his task and I ate my picnic. As I was finishing he returned.

“Did you like sitting there? Good place for a picnic.”

“I did thanks. This is a nice place, a nice village. You are lucky to live here.”

He agreed. We shook hands and wished each other well. Who says a man from Surrey and a Yorkshireman can’t get on?

I continued on but then when only about six miles from Thirsk took a wrong turn that led me in completely the wrong direction. It cost me at least five miles cycling and, as I thought I was near the end of my ride, it made me cross.

But I soon reached Sowerby with its pretty tree lined street just half a mile from Thirsk and then into the busy town itself.

Sowerby, next door to Thirsk.

Te roads through the town were busy and there appeared to be plenty of other tourists in town taking advantage of the weather.

The town itself formed around a space that presumably acts as a market square is attractive and relatively unspoilt. As Darrowby it was the setting for James Herriot’s All Creatures Great and Small books, later subject of a television series.

The market square in the centre of Thirsk, an attractive town, that now attracts many visitors.

I carried on through and over a bridge to my B&B in St James Green. It was a fine old Georgian house. I had already had a long conversation with my host, Barry, on the phone, when I made my booking. Although that had ben a month or so ago we seemed to just carry on where we left off. Was Yorkshire full of friends I never knew I had?

06.06.14 UATW computer data:

Miles cycled: 38.52 miles

Average speed: 10.6 mph

Cycling time: 3 hours 36 minutes.

Next another 30 mile ride to Darlington and a rendezvous with my son Tom who will join me for the leg to Durham. A poor forecast means another soaking is likely.

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