Out in the cold

This weekend the American Mules are completing the Valero 2009 Alamo ride to the river in San Antonio. In fact as I turn on the central heating and put on a woolly jumper, they will be turning their pedals on the second day with temperatures warm enough to still invigorate the sweat glands. Go Mules!!!!!!!!

Back on the other side of the Atlantic my life appears to be mirroring the onset of winter.

The trees recently abundant with rich foliage are now shedding there leaves and becoming thread bare. Their canopy recently a cyclists shelter from sudden cloudburst no longer offers that sort of support.

In the last three weeks I have not done any mileage and my cycle shoes lay redundant, providing their services as an occasional door stop.

'Addy' my race bike is hanging up in my spare bedroom and 'Scott' is keeping the garden utensils company in the shed.

I spent today with my daughters in Scarborough and noticed that even the four legged attractions appeared to be redundant, with no riders offering any useful employment.

One in particular stood on his own away from the rest, sad and forlorn.

When I approached him he stood motionless and written on his name band, on the top of his bridle was the word 'Hope' in bright red letters.

For that moment I did not no whether to Cry or laugh, instead I smiled.

It was a smile of resignation

Next summer there will be hoards of people clamoring up for a ride.

Next summer my wheels will be turning too.

I will be stronger, and better.

In the meantime I have started spinning at my local gym. I know its not the same as being 'Out there' but its a new beginning. I am sure in a few weeks 'Scott' will get his winter tyres on and I will be blazing an altogether new trail.

I have asked the Mules to give me a focal point for next year. A riding extravaganza, a real test.

I suggested the 'Triple by Pass' in Colorado which is being earnestly considered. The Rockies are a real attraction. However the Mules want to consider everything and anything. Ideally a two or three day mini tour in USA.

If anyone out there has any suggestions please let me know.

Mule echelon

Drafting the Mules

Parsley,sage,rosemary and thyme

Not wishing to to be seen as conservative, the end of the week saw me head due North to visit my sit my Mother in Scarborough.
The north East Coast of Yorkshire is a hidden treasure, with Whitby, Scarborough and Filey the real gems.
Each deserve its own blog space so this week its Scarborough.
To get there from where I live in Beverley, you have to cycle about 50 miles.
Travelling north over the Yorkshire wolds, into the Vale of York and onwards to the foot hills of the North Yorkshire Moors.
Scarborough is 20 miles south of Robin Hoods Bay where I went to Boarding School (Fyling Hall School) and my spiritual home.
Each day I would wake up and look out onto the harsh North Sea.
Not the picture post card tropical scene that we often think of when we look for that exotic holiday destination.
But the moody one, full of hidden scars, ripping tides, and weather as fickle as a politician.
The very sea that Capt Cook also looked upon as a child from his Whitby home and the resting place of thousand of wrecks including ships of the Spanish Armada.
In my teenage years I often wondered if Simon and Garfunkel had ever visited this place.
The way they sang their well know 'Scarborough Fair', I was convinced that they must have.

My Mother lives on a road that leads up to the famous Scarborough Castle. Her road is called Castlegate, this changes into the amply named 'Paradise' at the top of the Hill, where there is situated the beautiful St Marys church. My mother tells us all that situated where she is, she is half way to paradise. I think I agree with her.