The evening was spent in the Sun Inn, a Chicken and Ham pie washed down with Hambleton's Nightmare ale.



Back to the site and batten down the hatches for a very blustery night. I was woken by the sound of people sorting their tents out midway through the night, but the Tipi held firm and I was comfy in the performance blanket.
The beer I had rented the night before became determined to return to nature at around half six in the morning. After answering it's call I munched on a fake Snickers and decided I didn't want to hang around until half eight for breakfast from the farm, so broke camp and whispered from the site a little before half seven.
Just after half seven I was cresting the Barbon road over Whernside and decided to have a short contemplation break. Leaning the bike against a wall and enjoying a smoke on the pipe I chatted to the disinterested cows about nothing much. The wind whipped the air and the thistles as I could see the valley lightening up down the road



Onwards then.
Plump Grouse pudgily broke cover from the verge as I whooped my way down the bare road, taking full advantage of cracking visibility and long travel suspension.
I was the dawn rider and I felt about as free as I could get.
The sky was letting go of the grey veil of pre dawn and just outside Burrow the sun finally broke free from the horizon and began the daily duties.



As if answering the visual whistle of the sun, the roads began to fill up with people, either on horseback or in cars. I was beginning to rue my breakfast missing, even though it would still be waiting in the fridge.
i thought there must be a butty van along by Kirkby Lonsdale, but no, nothing there. To early for the solar powered riders. The Post Office in Hornby was till shut up as well, so no bacon roll and tea for me there.
Even Lancaster centre held no joys of caf�s.
Enough, cried my stomach, and I gobbled another couple of munchy bars.
It would have to wait until Beeston to get a breakfast filling it.
After spotting a friend's distinctive van on the A49 I wheeled around and joined him for a brew at his gaff.
Back on the road I caught the debris of an incident with just a copper on scene and the ambulance a few miles away wailing across the landscape. Nothing I could do to help, so onwards.
The later part of the journey saw a bit of fun with a Guzzi Le Mans MkII, a Sport and a new VMax. The Princess coped admirably, but those VMax's certainly have some stomp in them. Come a straight line he went off like I was stood still.
Nevermind, the next set of bends evened things out.
Home in time for lunch and a pint in the sun. Just shy of 500 miles all in.