There should be only one 8 o’clock on a Sunday,. It should be the 8 o’clock that happens after dinner. Or possibly just before dinner if you have poor organisation skills. For now there are still two to choose from and it was the earlier one designated as our time to meet in the middle of Holmfirth while all the sensible people slept in.
Even at that ungodly hour it was warm enough for riding in bike jeans accompanied by a simple t-shirt under the leather jacket. And it will only get warmer and sunnier! Nope.
I took a Ducati Supersport S out for the day as I’m still not sure about the chain on the Sprint. The neighbours probably weren’t thanking me; it growls like a proper V-twin and pops and spits boistrously on the overrun to complain about any slowing down. So far, so Ducati. I nearly bought a Supersport a few years ago but this would be the first long ride I’ve had on one. I’ll leave that verdict for another post.
Along for the ride today was @Towner92 on his new Tiger 900, George with his outrageously tidy Speed Triple, (black, natch), Joe with his first big bike - a highly suitable Trident, and Paddy on his Yamaha MT07. A bike designed by someone who hates their employer. It may be nice to ride but if it’s got all the aesthetic appeal of Ann Widdecombe, I’m not bothered about getting my leg over it.
Both Paddy and Joe are new riders so the pace dial was set to ‘comfortable’ as we skirted Huddersfield and Bradford, electing for a more countrified route via Meltham, Slaithwaite (pronounced ‘sla-wet’ - don’t ask me, I’m not from round here) and Hebden Bridge, which is a nice town and thanks to Paul’s satnav we saw most of it.
Our ‘interesting’ route from Hebden Bridge to Colne took us up up in to the hills on a bumpy, twisty single-track road suitable for Land Rovers, sheep and not much else. This is not the surface the Italians had in mind when they built the Ducati. By the time we passed Widdop Reservoir, thick fog had descended all around us. I half expected to arrive at a pub full of suspicious locals warning us not to go out at night…
Summer was becoming a distant memory as the road snaked on, mile after damp mile. Moisture was creeping in, and who knows what else. I could still be in bed now…
Finally, as we left the hills behind, the fog cleared. A quick comfort stop was a relief in more ways than one. Clothes could start to dry out.
Soon enough we were parked up in Settle and easing ourselves in to Ye Old Naked Man. Don’t panic, it’s a cafe.
Fully loaded with healthy fried food and looking forward to a better run up to Devil’s Bridge in Kirkby Lonsdale, we were back on the road. The traffic wasn’t great for most of this rideout but at least the final stretch in to Cumbria wasn’t bedevilled by a forest of speed cameras. (“60mph, officer. Why do you ask?”)
I hadn’t visited Devil’s Bridge before so didn’t know what to expect from this renowned biker hangout. Apart from a bridge. The small parking area was heaving with bikes, a fair few of them being Triumphs. Only one or two Harleys, though. I presume the rest were waiting for breakdown services on the A65.
Sadly, I appear to have taken no pictures of the bikes or the ice creams we enjoyed (@Tigcraft). Unless you fancy a dip in the Lune there isn’t much to see or do there so we didn’t hang around for long. The snaking queue for the coffee and burger van was moving slowly and the reward would likely have been a paper cup of brown disappointment. We passed.
Our return journey was a car-hopping, lycanthrope-free buzz down the A65 passing Ingleton and Settle before picking up the A629 at Skipton, hurling ourselves in the direction of Keighley. As A-roads go they’re not too bad at all.
By three-of-the-clock we were back in Holmfirth enjoying a cold beer in the sun to draw a line under the ride. Overall a fine day out. Now, when’s the next full moon…?
but then I realised the was an “r” missing… 
