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Saturday, 28 April 2012

Yorkshire Dales cycling


Cycling  presents new approaches to photography. I am only a snapshot taker, but I do like to try and compose some interest.
Instead of a pair of spindly walking poles, or a rucksack, the bike can be used as a foreground prop, that is, if one can overcome laziness by dismounting and parking the bike prior to taking a pic. Remaining on the bike can give you some extra height, and the picture here of Aysgarth Falls was taken sitting on the bike with elbows solidly placed on top of a wall. I anticipate other dodges will come to light as I continue with cycling. My heart is still wedded to walking, and if the long drawn out job of sorting my knees is successful I would hope to return to that activity, but in the meantime cycling is not a bad substitute.
These pictures were taken yesterday on a ride from Hawes to Bainbridge, Askrigg and Aysgarth, and back again. The outward route was on the south side of Wensleydale, and the return on the north side, both on minor roads, splendidly elevated above the valley giving none stop nostalgic views all the way - back in the 60s I spent a lot of time with friends fishing the river Ure, and hobnobbing with locals over many pints of beer, in unspoilt (at that time) country inns in this dale.

Burtersett Falls

Roman road leading down to Bainbridge


A pot of tea and homemade shortbread here in Bainbridge

Aysgarth Falls



2 comments:

Lorenzo da Ponte said...

When touring France I usually included a bit (sometimes a lot) of the car in the foreground of my reluctantly taken photographs; it helped a decade later when I tried to work out what year the pix were taken.

There are several (rather more obvious) reasons why I couldn't accompany you on these bike trips but one significant stumbling block is the fact that they are punctuated by stops for nothing more encouraging than tea. And not just a cup but "a pot of". I realise that coffee is a non-doing substitute since it leaves a bitter after-taste once one starts breathing through one's mouth - and that would happen sooner rather than later. But the cosiness of tea! Its vapidity! The likelihood of finding oneself talking about The Archers with a fellow tea-drinker. A sad transition from the hugger-mugger, knotted legs world of the hard cyclist into a tea-room, it's too hard to bear. Extending the metaphor (and invoking the memory of a well-loved mutual friend) it's as if one had spent one's time cycling round a garden centre. But perhaps I exaggerate.

Sir Hugh said...

L da P -Thanks you for your comment. Once again when starting to respond I realise I have the makings of a new post, so I will save my thoughts. Watch out for the next post, which may be delayed a bit as I go to hospital tomorrow for my knee op on Friday - it seems they want me in the day before - perhaps to force feed me with pots of tea?