Social rides take place on alternate Sundays, usually from 
City Square, Oakwood Clock, Pudsey Cenotaph
or Moortown Co-op

Rides usually start between 8.30am in summer and 9.30am in winter.

Send an email to Frank Montgomery at fmontgom@its.leeds.ac.uk for more information or for fortnightly e-mail updates.

These rides are of a social nature.  We don't ride very fast and there is always a cafe or pub for lunch.

Sunday Rides

Where did we go?

Leeds Cycling Action Group usually organises at least one Youth Hostelling weekend ride each year. This year we thought we’d better visit a couple of hostels in the Yorkshire Dales which were due to close at the end of the summer.

Four of us set out from Leeds on the Friday afternoon and, apart from a broken gear cable, arrived safely in Skipton where we stocked up for the evening meal in Morrison’s. We arrived in Earby, some 8 miles further, just after dark. On arrival we were pleasantly surprised to discover that the hostel had been given a reprieve, thanks to a buy-out by the local Council. (Less welcome was the news that we’d been double-booked, resulting in a brief game of Musical Beds!)

The following morning, after a hearty café breakfast we rode up the Wharfe valley in the sunshine and then the serious climbing began. At lunch in Hawes we debated whether our legs were up to any more punishment; the verdict was that they were, so Buttertubs Pass took us into Upper Swaledale and hence to Kirkby Stephen with a brief stop at Keld, another doomed hostel.

Kirkby Stephen is a converted Methodist Chapel with bags of character – its loss will be mourned by the many walkers and cyclists who have passed through its doors (and dined on its pews) over the years.

Our return journey took us roughly parallel with the Settle-Carlisle railway – unfortunately the road does not benefit from tunnels and viaducts, so several more lung-busting climbs were in order. En route we passed Dent YHA, alas resplendent in For Sale signs. After Ribblehead the riding got easier, two of us taking train from Settle and the other two from Skipton.

Ride report for 13 February - Moortown to Greenhow

The ride on 30 January to Selby (50 miles) was well attended, with 9 riders including 2 new members.

Despite taking a devious new route by quiet back roads, and stopping for breakfast at Lotherton Hall, we got to the café in Selby by 1215.

After lunch (roast beef or lamb with all the trimmings for £4) one of the new members took the train home (but said he had really enjoyed the ride), while the rest of us set off to inspect the swing bridge on the new Selby bypass.

While explaining the mechanics of the bearings and rotation mechanism, I detected the sound of snoring from some of the group, so thought it best to press on. We left Selby southwards by the picturesque Selby canal towpath (part of the Trans Pennine Trail) to Burn, then took a bridleway for 1km to regain asphalt on t'other side of canal. Going west against the wind, I realised why we had made such good time on the way out! Apart from the wind, it was lovely weather all day. Good ride.

The West Yorkshire Cycle Route in 3 Parts

Part 1 Great Preston to Holmbridge

Seven turned up at City Square at 0830 on Sunday 4 May. His Brooks saddle having snapped (!) over Easter, Steve was making do with an old saddle that sloped disconcertingly to one side.

The forecast was for broken sunshine, and indeed the morning fulfilled this promise. Barry led us out east via Pontefract Lane past the Leeds Vineyards to Great Preston where we joined the WYCR. This stretch is a converted rail line from Garforth to Allerton Bywater, known as ‘The Lines’, and is popular with dog walkers as well as cyclists. At one point we were impressed as a local kept five snarling dogs at bay as we passed. A rather unpleasantly busy road section to Castleford followed, then at Pontefract we looked in vain for a traditional café for breakfast. Eventually we settled for the popular, well organised and reasonably priced restaurant in Morrisons supermarket. Alison recalled how, on a previous WYCR expedition, she had stayed in a B&B in Pontefract, and had felt rather intimidated by the atmosphere on a Friday night.

By Wentbridge (which claims connections to the real Robin Hood) the weather was getting quite warm, so a quick stop was made for the ‘men in pants’ to remove them and slap on the SP30. Soon an off-road section took us over one rail line and under another, into a former mining area, now transformed at great expense into wasteland. A lack of signage led to some confusion as to the way forward. But eventually by observing the direction of the electricity pylons, we worked out the route between various small lakes, some popular with anglers. The map showed a track leading out of this area to the main road, but this track was now a new access road for a prospective light industrial park.

The next orienteering puzzle was at a T junction in Upton, where two WYCR signs pointed in opposite directions! Realising this was the work of some merry prankster twisting one sign round its pole, Barry dutifully twisted it back round again so as not to confuse any more cyclists.

At Hemsworth we said goodbye to Mary and Cesar, who went on to catch the train home from Fitzwilliam. The remaining five carried on over the M1 to Bretton Hall, for lunch in the new visitor centre at the Yorkshire Sculpture Park. Alison thought that Frank had applied the sunscreen to his face rather lavishly, but he hadn’t used any – the ghostly white pallor was salt from dried sweat! Peter had a book describing the WYCR in great detail, including long sections of the vertical alignment. These suggested that the next 10 miles would be inexorably uphill.

And so they were. As we climbed up past Denby a strong crosswind picked up. Peter experimented riding beside Frank to get the benefit of his ‘wind shadow’, but soon gave this up after being splashed with cobs of sweat being blown off Frank’s forehead. On reaching the day’s summit, a quick stop to put warm tops on again allowed us to admire the splendid views over to Emley, Holme Moss and across the Holme valley. A fast downhill section over badly potholed roads took us to Holmbridge, where Alison’s mum kindly provided tea and cake. Thereafter an easy ride took us through Holmfirth to Huddersfield, where there was time for a quick half pint at the station bar (accompanied by ‘chopsticks’ on the piano) before catching the train back to Leeds.

FOM 16.5.03

On Sunday 20th May, 7 people cycled from Holmfirth to Keighley. This is their story.

"That'll be £1.80", said the woman behind the counter in Sid's Café, as a cheese and pickle sandwich peered out of the chiller cabinet. Two mugs of tea rested silently on the counter as Alison passed over two pound coins and waited expectantly for her change. Old ladies stumbled around the café to the sound of mind numbing music. Outside, a bus waited for more passengers.

It was Sunday, it was a cycling Sunday. We sat silently in the café, sipping our mugs of tea, sipping them slowly, making them last, wondering where everyone else was. Two old ladies shared a sandwich.

Two hours later and Steve had punctured. "Go on, I'll catch up". He waved us off with a cheerful grin. We remounted our bikes and pedalled off, before turning right and ascending the first of many hills. Long hills, short hills, steep hills, gentle hills. This was a hilly person’s territory. Fortunately, we were all hilly people. Although some more than others.

Two hours later, and through the driving rain which bounced off the road, I pedalled up an endlessly long hill into a fierce headwind, before slowing to a stop by Richard, who sat staring at three gliders which soared and swept in the now brightening sky. We turned off onto a side road and picked up a tail wind, which pushed us over the M62 to Scammonden reservoir.

Two hours later, sat in a café in Hebden Bridge, chicken and mushroom pie and a mug of tea, the four of us sat. How had it come to this? Barry cycled past. Now we were five. Steve cycled past - we were almost complete. One brave warrior was amiss. One knight to complete the peloton.

One phone call later, from Oldham, from Lancashire, from Frank. "I think I took a wrong turn". We could sense the emotion in that simple sentence. The expression of disappointment.

We left the café and pedalled off. The sun was out, stroking our backs as we toiled up another hill and set off for Keighley.

Two hours later, as we sat on the train back to Leeds with miles in our legs and smiles on our faces, we knew it had been a good day. The conductor approached. "Have you had a good day", he asked, as he fumbled in his pocket for some change.

PK