Lincolnshire Wolds on Wheels

Back on English ground, I took the opportunity to explore as I never have before. In the past I used a bike as transport within Leeds city, but generally took public transport for longer distances. This time, determined to see more of England and with a great desire to keep my legs moving, I made some of my longer distance trips by bicycle.

The first opportunity was to visit my mum and step-dad in Lincolnshire. A chance to roll through the Lincolnshire Wolds on two wheels instead of four, to smell and see the countryside in a new light. Travelling by car had always given me the assumption that Lincolnshire was flat, this illusion did not last as the day wore on!

I started my journey in Doncaster, trying to escape some of the denser city traffic from Leeds. My first challenge was to find my way through the maze of backstreets Google directed me along in order to avoid the busy streets. I missed so many turns I began to feel the main road would, in fact, have been preferable!

Traffic did not subside quickly as I left the outskirts. Each return to England highlights to me how many vehicles we have on the roads, how this somehow seems to continually increase even though we ran out of reasonable room for them all years ago. Despite loving being on the bike, there is a constant nervous feeling as one engine after another speeds past. Respite on the ‘cycle paths’ brought discomfort of their own, as these paths were often nothing but worn down, uneven footpaths.

Eventually I turned onto a road which removed any doubt and distress from my mind. Reminding me of the simple joys of coasting on two wheels, not needing to sprint as you fear a little for your life. The only traffic I passed on that road was a tractor heading home for the day. I shared the peace with birds and a rabbit, was given time to look around as I freewheeled, breathing in the wonderfully fresh air. The road was edged on both sides with green hedgerow and beyond were farm fields leading far into the distance. Tones I have become so accustomed to associating with English country, greens, yellows and browns, all seemed to convey an explosion of colour under the baby blue sky.

As the journey drew on, the undulation of the landscape increased. I would reach the crest of a hill sure it would be my last, only to see another drawing in ahead. This coincided perfectly with an increase in beauty, making my effort worthwhile. Every incline rewards you with an elevated view of the surroundings and pride upon the success of reaching the top yet again, after you’d been sure the previous was the last you could possibly manage.

I began to tire, trying not to count down my final miles, knowing this would only extend my mental journey. Though the journey did indeed lengthen, this was more due to my desire to stop and appreciate all I saw. I had never seen a rainbow settle in the sky as long as I did that day, an incredible sight accompanied by the setting sun. Though I tried time after time, I was never able to capture with a camera the true beauty that I saw with my eyes.

A little under sixty miles since I had begun, I reached my destination. The sky was darkening and the dinner was being laid upon the table. Any difficulties I had endured were long forgotten, a content tiredness and warmth enveloping me as I settled onto the dining chair.