Cycling to the edge of the solar system

I hadn't been out on my bike for several weeks, so maybe riding out to Selby was a little ambitious. But I'm not totally unfit and I don't find cycling that taxing. I decided to follow National Cycle Route 65 and see how I got on.

I left the flat just after 6 a.m. and followed the signs. Most of the route is on traffic-free cycle paths through the countryside. The paths were in good condition and well sign-posted. I saw rabbits, pheasants, and flat-capped old Yorkshiremen walking their dogs. I always feel a bit weird when I see a walking stereotype in the flesh like that.

Early on the route took me through York Racecourse. And I don't mean I skimmed a corner of the grounds. I went right through the course. As the Ebor Festival starts today, I was glad I was out early and not under the hooves of the runners of the Symphony Group Stakes.

Between Bishopthorpe and Ricall is a scale model of the solar system. A sign near Ricall (a.k.a. Pluto) reads:

The scale of our model is 575,872,239 to 1. So every 100 metres along the track corresponds to more than 57 million kilometres in space. The speed of light is about 1.16 mph, so it is easy to walk at 3 times the speed of light and to cycle at 10 times the speed of light. Every journey down the cycle track ends before it begins and every time you travel on the track you will become a little younger. 

My GT hybrid had become a spaceship. A damn fast one, too.

I was pleasantly surprised to meet this fella at the bridge over the Ouse at Naburn:

He's called Fisher of Dreams. I don't think he's caught anything.

I didn't know anything about Selby except that it was 15 miles from York. So I was pretty impressed when I saw this thing hulking over the joint:

Selby Abbey

Across from the abbey is Selby Park. It's small and pleasant and even has a crazy golf course, although it isn't particularly crazy. Moody, maybe. I took a break, stretched and chastised myself for borrowing my boyfriend's padded cycling gloves but not his padded cycling shorts. I'd succumbed to numb bum. 

I could've continued the route on to Barnsley, but who wants to go there? So I turned around and went back the way I came, arriving home a little after 9 o'clock. Not a bad way to start the day.