"Dring-g-g-g!!" Curse you, alarm clock. Shurrup ' “Dring-g g-g!” Oh, all right, I'm getting up. What, 6 am.? Heavens, what an unearthly hour to rise. Well, well, it’s for a good cause. These, and other ejaculations, occurred prior to my departure for Higherford last Sunday to join the Silverdale run. But even rising at such an hour failed to get me to the meeting place at the appointed time. As it happened, however, there were only a few assembled, about four, I think. Magnificently. I gave any of them permission to pump up my tyres, but to my intense disgust,…

Sunday! With tousled heads and bleary eyes, the various members of the Nelson Section of the C.T.C. jumped, slid or crawled from between the sheets, and with noses pressed to windows, surveyed glistening roofs and lowering clouds. Suppressing groans, they gulped down breakfasts, packed food, and at times ranging between eight and ten o’clock, launched forth on their trusty steeds in the direction of Malham. As the official route was via Whalley, it is possible that a few actually reached that becobbled village; but many, knowing of shorter and smoother ways, utilized that knowledge and travelled direct. The advance guard,…

I rolled up to Fence on Sunday last as the bells of the Parish Church were chiming the hour of nine. Hercules, who has a passion for punctuality, informed me that I was ten seconds late, but I had not time to argue the matter for some unkind flint had penetrated the armour-plating of my rear tyre and the air contained therein was apparently anxious to return to its native element. The task of repairing the puncture took some twenty minutes to complete, and as my fellow-members had departed for Whalley some five minutes previously, I hurriedly packed away my…

Not caring for the usual route to Settle, and also, I must add, for tearing our hearts out behind the energetic ones, five of us decided to go by the quieter ways that lead through Paythorne, straggling Wigglesworth and Rathmell to Settle. The road is hillier and occasionally one encounters stretches of rough surface, but this is amply compensated for by the pleasant views over the Bowland Fells and the loftier heights of the backbone of England. Along these byways we sauntered, taking as we went our full share of the fruits of the hedgerows. Here and there we paused…