RBR - Scotland - sort of.

As of Monday, I had completed 49 out of 89 landmarks, so, as I had the
week off, I thought I'd polish off Scotland, as you do.

Monday night, I had second thoughts: the weather forecast was awful,
and there is one landmark at the arse-end of Skye.

So, I resolved to do the rest of England instead.

Set off Tuesday morning, and trundled off up the A12/M11/A14/A6 to the
Inclined Plane at Foxton. A series of locks lifts a canal an enormous
height. Very impressive. Met a fellow RBRer there, too - he was just
polishing off his final landmark, the git.

From there I trundled off up the M1, before leaving at J27 to get the
two village crosses at Linby. Easily done, straight back on the M1 to
J29, then off through Chesterfield towards Hathersage. The landmark
here was an old tollgate from the days of the pack-horse trails.

Then it was a bouncy twisty little jaunt over the high roads of the
Peak District into Staffordshire to find the Mermaid Inn - a lonely
pub set in the middle of nowhere.

So, four down, one to go for today - the monument to Gerald Forsberg,
a celebrated swimmer, native to Morecambe.

The journey was uneventful, if a little involved - what with attacking
Greater Manchester's traffic system in the middle of rush hour. North
on the M61, then the M6, before peeling off to the A683 to the coast.
I did feel a slight twinge of sympathy for the AA man peering into the
engine compartment of the bright orange Murcielago on the hard
shoulder of the M61.

Morecambe: dear, oh dear. What a sorry sight; it makes Hastings look
like Monaco. Having found the landmark, I decided against staying
there for the night, and headed north again up the coast road.

I found a hotel in Carnforth, and collapsed into bed after a single
pint.

After a substantial breakfast, which was free, because the landlady
was a biker, too, I set off up the M6 before turning west to the
Lakes. Onto the A590, then the A5092 towards Duddon Bridge. I *knew*
the Iron furnace was here - it's marked on the OS map. Could I find
it? Could I 'eck. Luckily a helpful chappie on a building site gave me
exact directions - I'd already ridden past it twice.

Then I retraced my route back to the M6, and headed north to J38 where
I pulled off to fill up at Old Tebay. From there I headed north on the
B6260 to Appleby-in-Westmoreland, across the A66 and up to the little
village of Hilton, to snap the two village pumps.

At this point I had one of the highlights of the trip - the route to
Stanhope, from Brough, via the B6276/7/8 was a true joy. Empty roads,
save for the occasional sheep, clear blue skies, and the Wing was
behaving itself.

The little tramway carriage at Parkhead station on the B6278 was easy
to spot, then it was north again, avoiding the ford at Stanhope. I did
consider it, but the sight of a bloke wading across with water above
his knees put me off a bit. Stile, north once more on the A68, before
turning off onto the B6342 to Kirkharle to find the monument of a Mr
Loraine, who was "barbarously murderd" by the Scots in 1483. A few
more miles north on the A1 to Alnwick, and I was able to turn for
home. The landmark here was Malcolm's cross - something to do with
some Jockish king chappie from ages since.

Southbound at last, a quick blast down the A1 and A19 saw me in Chav
Heaven - the Royal Quays shopping centre in North Shields. They've got
a dead good clock here, where a big globe opens up and blows a little
man over, on the hour. Of course, I arrived at ten past, so missed it.

South through the Tyne Tunnel, refuelled, and off into Yorkshire. Off
the A1 at Scotch corner, the south to Leyburn before climbing up
Wensleydale. I found the old animal pound at Thoralby easily enough,
and paused for a bite to eat and a cup of coffee from my trusty
Thermos.

Suitably refreshed I returned to the A1, crossed it at Northallerton
and headed north again on the A19, before turning east on the A174 to
skirt Middlesbrough. Just before Skelton I turned of to get the little
church at Upleatham - supposedly the smallest church in England. It is
tiny.

It was getting a bit gloomy now, so I dispensed with the sunglasses,
and resolved to find lodgings in Whitby. Whitby had other ideas: after
leaving the fourth place that had "just let the last room" I headed
for Scarborough. Crossing the moors at night is a real joy. No,
there's nothing like the thrill of seeing your headlights picking out
half a dozen catseyes as you climb a hill, only to have your vision
filled with reflective chevrons as you crest the rise. That's if
you're not blinded by the apparently non-adjustable headlights on the
local tractors.

Around nine o'clock I spotted a decent looking pub in Cloughton, and
was rewarded with a nice room, a few pints of Theakstons, and a
substantial breakfast in the morning.

Thursday morning's first landmark was a little plaque on a fence post
in Bempton, telling why that corner used to be called "Jaw Bones
Corner." It was because of the jaw bones, apparently. I don't think
I've ever seen so many static caravans as I did that morning on the
road south of Scarborough - t here were thousands.

Westward bound now, across God's Own County, towards Leeds -
presumably God's Own Arsehole. A64 from Malton, round York, to the M1,
then M62/606 to Bradford ,then cross-country to HAworth. The landmark
here, in the heart of Bronte country was a little pack-horse bridge
over a river. The closest I could get by road was about half a mile,
before setting off on foot through the obligatory (it seems) cow
field. Still, it was a lovely day, the field was empty, and the bridge
was in a very picturesque setting. The walk back uphill was less
enjoyable, though.

From Haworth I retraced my steps to the M1, then headed south (hooray)
to Barnsley (boo). The landmarks at Silkstone were the three memorials
to the pit disaster in the 1830s which claimed the lives of 26 kids
aged 6 to 16. I'd only located one exactly before setting off, but a
local pointed me in the right direction once I'd arrived in the
vicinity. (i.e. within 200-300 yds). That's Yorkshire done, then. Only
Lincs and Northants left.

A57 from the M1 to Lincoln, then around the city to the north and
continue east on the A158 almost all the way to Skegness. Bateman's
brewery at Wainfleet is in an old Windmill - this was the landmark.
South through the Fens to Donington - home of Matthew Flinders, the
explorer. It was his statue I needed to find. Easy.

One final coffee, then south-west into a setting sun to Oundle, to get
a piccie of the church steeple at St Peter's. The dun finally
disappeared behind cloud as I arrived, but it was still just light
enough for a photo.

From here it was a simple blat down A1(M), A14, M11 home. On the M11
between the M25 and the North circular the odometer went past
150,000km.

So, only 1200 miles in three days, but 20 landmarks, and a few points.
What with the in-law visiting duties, and the notorious Scottish
weather, I think that might be it for this year.

The clutch is still not right, but at least the hose replacement has
pointed the finger at hydraulic issues, rather than mechanical, and
the brakes need a damned good fettle - they pivot to activate the
anti-dive, except the anti-dive doesn't any more, so they just pivot.
Trouble is, it sounds, and feels, as if the caliper is about to fall
off at any moment.

I'll see how I feel when I get back from parts Froggish.

--
| ___ Salad Dodger
|/ \
_/_____\_ GL1500SEV/CBR1100XXX/CBX1000Z
|_\_____/_| ..93550../..25068.../..31928.
(>|_|_|<) TPPFATUICG#7 DIAABTCOD#9 WG*
|__|_|__| BOTAFOT #70 BOTAFOF #09 PM#5
\ |^| / IbW#0 & KotIbW# BotTOS#6 GP#4
\|^|/ ANORAK#17 IbB#4 YTC#4 two#11
'^' RBR Clues: 69 Pts:0960 Miles:3899

 

Fantastic post, and this bit made me laugh out loud.

 

Did you actually find the Inclined Plane though and not just the
staircase of locks? The IP is round the back, disused and overgrown - at
least, it was when I last saw it.
--
Dave
GS850x2 XS650 SE6a

Teach a man to fish and he and his pikey mates will have the
river cleaned out in a day.

 

It has nothing to do with it being open season for haggis you just want
an excuse to take it to bits again.

Full probably.

 

There's one of them at Blists Hill in the Ironbridge Gorge.

 

No, I didn't. The landmark was the museum, and I saw that.

It looks worth a second visit, though, when I can spend a bit more
time.
--
| ___ Salad Dodger
|/ \
_/_____\_ GL1500SEV/CBR1100XXX/CBX1000Z
|_\_____/_| ..93550../..25068.../..31928.
(>|_|_|<) TPPFATUICG#7 DIAABTCOD#9 WG*
|__|_|__| BOTAFOT #70 BOTAFOF #09 PM#5
\ |^| / IbW#0 & KotIbW# BotTOS#6 GP#4
\|^|/ ANORAK#17 IbB#4 YTC#4 two#11
'^' RBR Clues: 69 Pts:0960 Miles:3899

 

Made me grin somewhat, too.

 

What a waste of the worlds resources........

 

Oh, okay; I'll let you off this time.

 

T'other half has been watching "Britain's Stongest Man 2007" this
week, televisualised from Minehead. Hilarious stuff - mostly from a
wet, windy deserted holiday camp with an audience of about 12
toothless gurning inbreds.

 

Definitely - fascinating stuff if you're into Georgian/Victorian
industrial kit. The kind of thing we take for granted today, they were
doing yonks back.
--
Dave
GS850x2 XS650 SE6a

Teach a man to fish and he and his pikey mates will have the
river cleaned out in a day.

 

Nice write-up. We were through Stanhope today, but headed north on
more empty roads to a great lunch at http://www.lordcrewehotel.com/.
There are worse ways of spending a sunny day.

 

I kinda liked Leeds, they have good pizza.

 

Thanks Dodger. I always like to read of the exploits.

 

But what can you do .......

 

The bigger the lie, the more likely it is to be believed, read the Daily
Express do you Steve?

You should also note that spaces should come after commas not before.

 

The treasury figures consistently show year after year that per capita
expenditure is significantly highest for Northern Ireland, next highest
is the South East Of England. That is what the treasury figures show,
if you accept them then your case is blown right out of the water.

If you don't accept treasury figures and there are very good reasons not
to believe them then your case is further weakened by the howling errors
and deceptions repeated year after year by the treasury for for political
ends. The creative accounting principally is effected by some but is
not limited to:

1) Counting oil revenues payed at London head offices as English revenue
received, a variable per year amount of between 3 and 4 billion.

2) Counting as English revenue received some of the highest payers of
Corporation Tax amongst which are the biggest payers of this tax, Scottish
banks, the RBS alone typically pays about £2 billion a year which is
counted as English revenue.

3) Attributing the whole cost of Trident and the Coulport nuclear
storage facility as Scottish expenditure.

4) Attributing a per capita based share of expenditure for the English
prisons, courts and judicial system to Scotland when Scotland has a
separate legal system.

5) Not including in Scottish revenue received fisheries income paid
directly to the EU.

Lies, damed lies and statistics, the true picture is the exact opposite.

 

Sucking his keyboard for inspiration, muddy cat typed:

I lived there for several years. It was said to have more green space per
head of population than any other city in the UK, and nowhere in the city
was more than a 3d bus ride from open country (going back a few years,
mind). I liked the place. It's compact in a way that Manc isn't, and to
the North are the Dales and the N York moors - great biking country. Dunno
about the pizza, but Leeds has the best chippies in the world (most
specifically excluding Harry Ramsden's).

 

I forgot the limestone caves/potholes too, that was fun.

 

Sucking his keyboard for inspiration, muddy cat typed:

Heh - so did I. I don't do that any more, but I reckon I've had more fun
under the Dales than I have on the surface.