Buttercup Meadow

The forecast at the beginning of the week was for the weather to be sunny from Monday through Friday, and finally getting warmer - until Saturday when it would be wet and cold, staying much the same on Sunday, seeing a return to summer weather on Monday - a pattern, which for one notable exception, has persisted for the last couple of months. How can weather systems hold the concept of the weekend, and also be so mean to those of us working five days a week?

The forecast remained unchanged on Wednesday and I cracked. I escaped! I took off from the office early afternoon on the bike, under clear blue skies, the sun warm but the air still quite cool, to simply head north into the Dales and see how far I'd get. The answer was quite a long way! The sense of freedom felt so completely wonderful. I got in a groove and headed northeast from Shipley through Skipton to Settle, reaching Horton-in-Ribblesdale in just over two hours. From there I continued north to Ribblehead and Hawes before taking the familiar route back over Fleet Moss and back down Wharfedale. It was an astonishingly beautiful ride.

The general highlight were the buttercup meadows. I'm not sure I've ever seen them looking quite so resplendent, especially at the top of the valley near Buckden. I took quite a few stops to try to photograph them but it's near nigh impossible to capture the intensity and the sweep of their colour - although I had to try. There were other specific highlights. I really enjoyed the descent from Newby Head (which although having climbed it quite a few times from the north, I realised that I'd never previously come down from the south). There was the magical experience of cycling alongside a curlew for fifty metres or so and sharing eye contact for a brief instant. I also met a delightful family from Singapore while grabbing a cream soda from the kiosk at Ribblehead Viaduct. They were very engaging. I would have missed out on meeting them if it wasn't for my portrait project.

I got back to Ilkley with over a hundred miles on the clock and just in time to watch the end of the twenty-twenty match at Ben Rhydding. The final few overs saw the game swing one way and then the other, the initiative being passed between the teams with almost every passing over. It all came down to the last ball, and we were eventually emerged triumphant. It seemed like a fitting end to a great day. The legs held up remarkably well too. I was very pleasantly surprised.