Although it was the morning after our fancy dress dance, about forty cyclists found their way to our meeting place at Higherford. Whether it was because Old King Sol tempted them or not I do not know but they were ready to journey to Brow Gill Cave away up in beautiful Ribblesdale.
Hardly had we begun our journey when one of my tyres punctured, but alas, something went wrong, and instead of my comrades "doing the stuff" as they usually do, and repairing it for me, they promptly reviled me and my bike, and started giving impossible advice on how to mend a puncture. However, we were soon on our way again and speeding down Coldweather, thrrough Gisburn and on our way to Settle. The air was fresh and clear as crystal, and soon we were picking out the distant hills, Ingleboro, Bowland Knotts and many others we knew so well, their snow covered summits standing out like pearls on a carpet of green. A keen face wind made our journey a little harder than usual, but amidst such scenery and pleasant companions we soon arrived at Settle. Here we had our usual rest, whilst some of our members imbibed in "soft" drinks.
Horton being our destination for lunch, we did not tarry long as the hungry worm was already biting, so leaving Settle by way of Constitution Hill we sped through Langcliffe and Stainforth, being treated to a magnificent view of snow capped. Peny-y-ghent on our right as we neared Horton. Soon the Golden Lion at Horton was crowded out with us as we appeased our appetites.
After lunch we left Horton, and instead of following the main road we turned right at the New Inn, and we followed the back road (the old pack horse road to Hawes), and so up the dale through New Houses, where the road became more hilly and much rougher. Of course, you can trust a cyclist to find all the mud etc. By the time we reached Higher Birkwith Farm the road almost petered out altogether. Here we took to a grass track through fields to Brow Gill and the cave.
Cave hunting and "potting" are pastimes which seem to fascinate all cyclists and Brow Gill is one of the safest caves in a district which is literally a warren of them. About twenty of us, equipped with electric and acetylene lamps entered. For about thirty yards we were dodging the water, crossing and re-crossing the stream which comes out of the cave; then a shout from the leader of "mind your heads,” and the roof became so low that we had to creep on our hands and knees for another twenty yards or so, then we found ourselves in the main cavern. The main cavern is just like a huge fissure in the rocks roofed in. In width it varies from about thirty feet to about eighteen inches - (how "Squire" managed to get through still remains a mystery) — and the height is about sixty or seventy feet. We continued up the cave, sometimes walking easily, sometimes just squeezing through, eventually coming to the end. Here is a beautiful underground waterfall, the water falling from a height of thirty-five to forty feet. With the light of our lamps making each drop sparkle as it fell, and with a background of rock whose shade varied from black to a kind of fawn, it made a sight well worth our effort. Returning to our machines we followed the track further on and eventually crossed the Ribble, here only a few feet wide, and presently came to the Ribblehead Road just above Selside. With a slight back wind and some fast men in front, our journey back to Settle and Long Preston, where we had tea, was soon accomplished.
Tea over, we rested awhile, passing the time talking of our various activities. Home was calling though, and soon we were speeding towards it beneath a silvery moon and through frosty air, content that we had spent another profitable day awheel.
JIMNUT.