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*Chapter 25*

A Right Yorker

 
 
“Gab, get up.”
I lifted an eyelid, damn that’s bright.
“Time is it?”
“Breakfast time,” Mand suggested.
“Already? Only just gone to sleep.”
“It’s nearly eight, come on we have to get to the Minster place for half nine.”
“How’d you know all this?”
“I actually listened to your Dad last night,” the clever moo told me.
Nothing for it I guess, have to get up.

As usual everyone else beat me to breakfast, even Mand deserted me as I searched for clean socks.
“Morning,” I proposed.
“Only just,” Dad replied.
I stuck my tongue out at him, juvenile I know.
“Coffee’s coming,” Mum advised, “it’s a buffet for food.”
“’Kay,” I allowed and set off for where several others seemed to be loading plates.

The buffet wasn’t groaning under cheese and ham but being England it was loaded with the makings of a Full English, which is quite a treat for us Germans, well inhabitants of Germany. I joined the queue and started loading, sausage, bacon, mushrooms, tomatoes, beans, eggs fried, eggs scrambled, black pudding, fried bread – it was all there but not everything made it to my plate. That said, my platter was well loaded and caused some raised eyebrows when I returned to the others.

“What? I’m hungry.”
“Never said a word,” Mand mentioned.

The actual German contingent were tucking into good piles of food too – well okay they’re racing later but whatever the rest of us are going on this ride thing so I need to load a few calories right?

“You listening, Gab?” Mum queried.
“Er yeah?”
“You need to get sorted as soon as you finish eating, your dad’s taking all the bags when he and the girls set off for Leeds, we’ll meet them over there later.”
“Okay.”
“Mand?”
“I’ll make sure she’s ready.”
“Hey!”
“Just make sure you have everything you need,” Dad advised.
“Yes, Dad.”
Anyone would think I forget stuff all the time.

I don’t know quite what I was expecting but the motley collection of bikes and riders already waiting when the four of us rolled up to the Minster was not it. I’ve got used to doing my group riding with other ‘elite’ riders, it must be a couple of years since I’ve ridden with such a mixed collection. Elite, that’s a laugh, at the moment this lot are more my level.

Mum and Caro were soon chatting away, Mad and I waiting patiently that is until Kristen and Mary both turned up in short order.

“Morning, Gab, Mand,” Kris allowed.
“Hi,” I returned, “good turnout.”
“Judy said there’s been up to a hundred,” Mary supplied.
“Thought you guys would be riding some fancy race bikes,” Kristen noted.

I glanced at my spotless machine – Dad found time to clean our bikes after yesterday’s ride, dunno when but I know there was a dollop of cow poo on the front fork when we arrived at the hotel. Anyway, back to now.

“Not for training and stuff,” Mand offered.
“Cool jersey, Gaby,” fan girl Mary opined.
“Have to make the most of fame whilst I’ve got it.”
“She hardly makes an appearance in one of these,” Mand indicated her own Apollinaris top.
“How come? Don’t you have to wear team strip in Germany?” Kris queried.
“Unless you have a special jersey like series leader,” Mand spouted.
“I wore team kit in Japan.”
“Sort of,” Manda agreed.
“You’ve been to Japan?” Mary gasped.
“We did some promo races at half term,” I told our audience.
“Cool,” Kris allowed, her attitude softening a bit.

Sunday runs never depart at the advertised time and today was no exception, we eventually rolled away from the Minster forecourt at nine forty five. We had quite a peloton, riders across a wide spectrum of ages and although it’s the ladies association, a few of the less fair sex boosted the numbers. I’m not sure why I’d felt so passionately that riding this morning was important but the actuality of it hadn’t lessened that.
I had no idea where we were headed other than our destination was expecting to supply food and drink to a ravening pack of – genteel lady cyclists. Yeah, that’s likely.

“So where are we headed?” I enquired of Mary, who seemed determined to ride with me as much as possible.
“The Black Swan in Helmsley, we’ve got a room booked,” she supplied.

I vaguely remembered Helmsley, I’m sure we went to a castle there and there’s an abbey or something? It was a few years back now, school holidays I think – of course Mum was teaching back then.

“So you live in York?”
“Heavens no, Swindon,” she supplied.
“Oh right, so like how’d you get involved with this?”
Well you have to show some interest right.
“My aunt races, she got me into it, not that I’m any good. What about you?”

Valid question I guess. The pat answer would be it’s in the genes but my sister is at best a reluctant rider so that’s hardly plausible.

“Dunno, I just enjoy riding I guess.”
“Didn’t your mum want you to race?”

Did she? I don’t think she did particularly, I wasn’t discouraged, it was probably Dad that did the encouraging. Mum was racing herself of course so I was exposed to the whole cycling thing, I don’t think I was even that interested in racing to start with.

“Not really, I mean she wasn’t against it or anything but there was no pressure to do it, my sister played badminton for the county.”
“I didn’t know you had a sister, you the oldest?”
“Younger, she’s eighteen in August.”
“I’m seventeen in June,” she put in.

There was some movement of the women ahead of us but no one seemed very concerned that we kept station at the back of the bunch. We rolled through the North Yorkshire countryside at a steady twenty, twenty-five kph, it was steady enough for conversation without feeling it drag. The day was brightening even if it wasn’t warming much, not a bad day for a ride, particularly a leisure ride with no mention of the T word.

Mary wanted to talk bikes; Kristen wanted to hear about Japan, the miles disappeared under our wheels seemingly effortlessly. The villages were straight out of those period drama things set in Yorkshire, very picturesque. The rolling countryside became more corrugated and then we were descending to Ampleforth where a signpost claimed five miles to our destination.

However we didn’t take that turn, instead passing through Oswaldkirk before climbing again before dropping into Ryedale from Nunnington. Those five miles ended up being closer to ten before, in a screech of brakes, we pulled up at the Black Swan at the top of the market place. We hadn’t done bad on time, the church clock was striking twelve as we stacked our bikes in the hotel yard.

“Gab? Amanda?” called from the hotels steps.
“Wassup, Mum?”
“We’re on a bit of a tight timetable, we need to be off for one, we’re getting a train from Thirsk just after two.”
“How far’s that?”
“Caro reckons the direct route over Sutton Bank is about fifteen miles, you gonna be okay with that?”
“Guess so.”
“Well let’s get inside and fed.” She suggested.

The hostelry were well organised, we had a pre-booked meal, apparently we’d selected before leaving York – I guess Mum decided for me and Mand, anyhow ‘Bond, two chilli, one soup, one quiche’ arrived almost as quickly as we were seated. I wasn’t upset by chilli, I’d have probably picked it myself but it would’ve been nice to have had the choice. Caro fetched drinks, disgusting pub lemonade – at least back home it comes out of a bottle.

To be fair the chilli wasn’t bad, the accompanying chips were real chips and the food filled a hole I didn’t realise I had. As you might imagine, with a room full of women there was a constant buzz of chatter as twenty, thirty different conversations crossing the room. People came to our table to exchange pleasantries, we were just finishing our food when our attention was gained by the older woman from last night.

“Ladies, can I just have your attention for a minute or two?”
The hubbub reduced and the woman went on.
“I know some of you, including our guests from Germany, are leaving us here so I’d just like, on behalf of the BLCA I’d like to thank you all for coming to York this weekend, I think we’ve all enjoyed ourselves.”
“Here, here!” someone called out.
“I think you’ll all join me in thanking our World Champions, Jenny and Gaby Bond for taking the time to travel over to be with us and wish them every success for the future. So if you’d please show your appreciation.”

There ensued a bout of not always ladylike cheering which Mum enjoyed and I endured. I felt a bit put out on Mand’s behalf that she hadn’t been mentioned, she got a medal and came from Germany too, she didn’t say anything but I’m sure she felt perhaps a little sidelined.

“Thanks for the invite,” I told Mary.
“Thanks for coming.”
“It’s been a good weekend, I’ve enjoyed it,” which certainly wasn’t a lie.
“So you going straight to the airport then?”
“No we’re meeting Dad and the girls at the Euro League cross at Roundhay in Leeds, then they go with the bikes to catch the ferry and we go to the airport.”
“Hope you make it,” Mary noted.
“Me too.”

“Bum,” Caro pronounced after checking her timepiece, “we need to make tracks.”

Of course we couldn’t just up and leave, we had to go through the niceties with our hosts and other well wishers, by the time we’d extricated our bikes we had fifty five minutes to reach Thirsk station. It was going to be eyeballs out to make it and my legs are still feeling the ride out from York.
We set off and I was in trouble as soon as we crossed the river, the A170 climbing quite steeply up to Sproxton where the others waited for me.
“I think we’d best go around through Ampleforth, Jen, Gab is gonna struggle up to the top of the Bank, it’s a bit further but without any big climbs.”
“You know the way, Caro,”
“Sorry, my legs are like jelly.”
“Don’t worry, kiddo, we’ll get there.”

Maddy Bell 22.02.16