C2c 2011, etc etc - Willington (via Oakenshaw), Newton Hall, Easington...
With the commentary to Andrey Arshavin's fantastic winner against Barcelona at the Emirates ringing in my ears - I'd already memorised it - I set off for Brancepeth, and its agreeable castle. But I got there reasonably straightforwardedly, and so like my jaunt to Chester-le-Street, I decided to just carry on and see what came next.
Tow Law was the answer, on the next signpost, which appealed because of Tow Law Town, of course: I admit I don't keep track of how they're doing, but always seem to hear their name on the Classifieds. Except I got lost en route, and more to the point, thirsty. So when I cycled past a remote village called Oakenshaw I figured it must have a shop.
It doesn't, or not one immediately apparent from its high street. This meant carrying on into the unknown down a gigantic hill to the next village nestled in the bosom of the valley below. Fortunately, this was Willington, a village I knew, 8.5 miles away from home - 10miles with the needless detour.
There I sampled The Mermaid Fish Shop's lunchtime special, with pot of team and mushy peas, all for a reasonable £5,
and salivated over the football reports - shame it didn't work out in the away leg (had van Persie been on the end of Wilshere's pass at the end, though...)
The next jaunt was nearer to home, in the Newton Hall estate, because last summer Liam and I had found a brilliant alleyway with a daunting and exhilarating hill down into town that I couldn't resist trying again. It took a while to find it, over the railway bridge, but it has a Cresta Run feel to it, and ends up with a lovely arc round into a farm:
The following week I headed in another direction, toward Sherburn, and beyond to Easington, apparently the most ethnically homogenous postcode in the country, and a tough place to reach by bike - 13 miles away, loads of hills, especially into Sherburn Hill (clue in the title, I suppose)!
But there were some giant windmills en route, in the beautiful hills...
Easington's high street is a looooooooooooong and formidable bank, but when I got there, I saw a sign that said the coast was at the bottom, three miles away. Well, I couldn't resist that, and you do get a thrill from seeing the sea, don't you? I got there, but there was a steep cliff, and I didn't have enough time to find the path down to the 'beach', so I had to settle for this, before the 13 miles back:
Tow Law was the answer, on the next signpost, which appealed because of Tow Law Town, of course: I admit I don't keep track of how they're doing, but always seem to hear their name on the Classifieds. Except I got lost en route, and more to the point, thirsty. So when I cycled past a remote village called Oakenshaw I figured it must have a shop.
It doesn't, or not one immediately apparent from its high street. This meant carrying on into the unknown down a gigantic hill to the next village nestled in the bosom of the valley below. Fortunately, this was Willington, a village I knew, 8.5 miles away from home - 10miles with the needless detour.
There I sampled The Mermaid Fish Shop's lunchtime special, with pot of team and mushy peas, all for a reasonable £5,
and salivated over the football reports - shame it didn't work out in the away leg (had van Persie been on the end of Wilshere's pass at the end, though...)
The next jaunt was nearer to home, in the Newton Hall estate, because last summer Liam and I had found a brilliant alleyway with a daunting and exhilarating hill down into town that I couldn't resist trying again. It took a while to find it, over the railway bridge, but it has a Cresta Run feel to it, and ends up with a lovely arc round into a farm:
The following week I headed in another direction, toward Sherburn, and beyond to Easington, apparently the most ethnically homogenous postcode in the country, and a tough place to reach by bike - 13 miles away, loads of hills, especially into Sherburn Hill (clue in the title, I suppose)!
But there were some giant windmills en route, in the beautiful hills...
Easington's high street is a looooooooooooong and formidable bank, but when I got there, I saw a sign that said the coast was at the bottom, three miles away. Well, I couldn't resist that, and you do get a thrill from seeing the sea, don't you? I got there, but there was a steep cliff, and I didn't have enough time to find the path down to the 'beach', so I had to settle for this, before the 13 miles back:
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posted by Graham at 9:40 AM
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