Cycling

When I was a lad, Sunday morning, come rain or shine, the alarm would go off early and after a glance outside I would pull on my cycling gear (not today's lycra) and wheel my 'iron steed' outside for a days cycling. The roads were empty descending into Shipley and up the short climb onto Manningham Lane to join others of the cycling club on our day out in the Dales.
Looking back I was blessed. Not only by the close proximity of the Dales but the fact that the motor car was still out of reach for the majority of the people and we had the joy of the open road for much of our day.

The Yorkshire Dales, are a hilly, drystone walled uplands landscape of heather and gorse. The interlinking road connecting the villages, each a separate and detached community, twisted and turned through the countryside nothing but the swish of our tyres to disturb the wildlife. 

The joy of feeling fit and happy as we chatted to each other riding two abreast, twenty or so riders snaking along the deserted roads. The hill were sort after, a trial of strength. The names of the climbs like a battle field of old, were a challenge as we got out of the saddle to grind our way up the twisting accent. Breath and sinew were being tested as, head down we swayed from side to side pressing down on the peddle to keep up momentum. Lifting the gaze from its fixed position a few feet in front of the wheel we looked up to see how far we had still to go. Just around one last corner and the land flattened  out leaving the valley far below, we had made it and those that did felt the inevitable superiority towards those who walked the last part.
Poetry has been written describing the substance of the light and air, the sound of the Curlew, the sight of a Falcon plummeting out of the sky in pursuit of a rabbit but these were our personal  digest as we sat about eating our sandwiches. We were lucky to be alive and well  in one of natures more sublime settings.
Now-a-days it's an 'exercise bike' in the lounge and the boredom of morning TV clacking away in the corner. No chirping mates to chat to, no 20 mile undulating road to the next village to focus attention on, only the wallpaper to aim at.

How far we have fallen in our terrestrial journey !!!