In Search of Robin Hood

I think there's something uniquely appealing about cycling alongside a river.  But I've written about that before.  Do check out my previous blogs on that if you are interested.   The River Trent in the English Midlands has always been close to my heart because the village that my father hails from is located only a few hundred yards from it's banks.  And I lived in Newark-on-Trent for several years in the noughties.

I'd had a long weekend staying with relatives on my Dad's side of the family and a plan to travel from their farm near Bingham to stay with a friend of mine in Eckington in North-West Derbyshire; many would regard Eckington as a de-facto suburb of Sheffield.   And it's a great bike ride through a variety of landscapes.  I even had time to plan my route with my aged maps prior to commencing my journey.

I understand that in a bygone era, there were manually operated rope-ferries at various locations between Gunthorpe Bridge and Newark-on-Trent; but these have gone the way of the milkman.  Nowadays, as a cyclist, if you want to remain dry you have to cross the Trent at Gunthorpe Bridge, which I did.    By which time I was on the West side of the Trent.  This route is familiar to me as I went this way from Newark to Nottingham in the past.

I ambled through pretty Nottinghamshire villages; sometimes cycling along beside the river, and at other times a little further away.  I like the town of Fiskerton, it offers pleasant river-side walks and a good pub.  One of the delights of cycling is that the cyclists feels the shape of the landscape instinctively.  Of course, the most modest of inclines is noticed by the cyclist who pedals harder to beat the incline.  As I pedaled on to the ancient town of Southwell, you leave the river basin and the pull up the hill keeps the landscape in the memory.  These things are much less striking in a motor-car.

On from Southwell, I went through Kirklington, Eakring and on to Wellow.  Wellow is notable for it's school and unusually large flagpole.  I was disappointed in Ollerton that there was nowhere to procure a portion of fish and chips for lunch; but a few miles further on my disappointment was assuaged by a fish and chip shop at the next roundabout.    The route goes through Sherwood Forest, home to Robin Hood according to the legend.  It's a sudden change in landscape from the predominantly arable vistas I had enjoyed hitherto.

The view from the roadside does not indicate a huge variety of tree species, but the landscape is pretty, with babbling brooks and some small lakes.  And the few properties are strikingly different to the conventional red-brick of the English Midlands.    A few miles further on and one is in Whaley where there was a coal mine.  Now, of course, long closed.  And converted into Poulter country park by the local council in conjunction with the European Union.  This is also indicative of closeness to the destination.

The landscape in the final fifteen miles or so is quite different once again.  Steep inclines and rapid descents through Clowne, Barlborough and into Eckington, made me glad to be on a bike with a selection of gearing ratios.  Only travelling by bike - I think - with it's gentler pace and vulnerability to the lay of the land can a voyager be so intimately in touch with the nature of the landscape and their environment.  What a great invention.