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Recycled ride to Mr Moos – 35 miles
February 15th 2019
Present: Bob W, Chris E, Chris S, Dave W, Derek, Helen, Jane, John Boddice, Electric John, French
John, Nick, Trevor
It’s an earworm, a song line
that gets stuck in your brain on
repeat. Today for me it was
Lou Reed’s ‘It’s such a perfect
day…’. And it was, for cycling.
Sunny, calm, and weirdly mild
for February. So mild that one
pair of knees were on show
(Derek’s I think), Bodman had
compromised with his crop
trousers and only Tenor Chris
disappointed, sporting a pair of
what looked suspiciously like
proper cycling trousers, his
Lycra Luddite days a thing of
the past on this, his fiftieth ride.
Adidas? someone asked, peering at the logo. No, Didoo. Did you say Dildo? asked another. What do
you expect for nothing? replied Chris, reassuringly. French John gingerly stroked his new beard,
unfamiliar with the feel, and not sure about the image.
We set off to Skipsea, Mr Moos of course, our
destination for this, Dave’s last ride for several
weeks. Passing Leven House, we were all
distracted by a perfect carpet of snowdrops
along the road.
Soon we were into the remoter countryside of
Holderness. A buzzard swooped low over the
road, so close you could see the speckled
markings on its breast.
As we passed Nunkeeling I couldn’t resist
parking up to have a look at the old graveyard
behind the hedge, telling Nick I’d catch up.
Here stands a -derelict church, saved from
demolition by the Bewholme Parish Council in
1985. It was replaced in the 1900s by the two
other churches we passed today: Dunnington
and Bewholme, both of which we’ve managed
to visit on Recycled rides in the past. One of
the graves I photographed bore witness to the
terrible toll of infant mortality in the 19th
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century. A Christopher Staveley had lost seven of his children, including four in infancy.
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I was excited to visit this site, the clue being in the name. Nunkeeling was originally a priory in the
12th century, housing 12 nuns and a prioress. The ruin here today is of a 19th century church, but it is
partly constructed from the stones of the original church next to the priory, which was suppressed
by Henry V111. This was one of the small, poorer priories, the takeover of which by the rapacious
Henry and his top man Thomas Cromwell sparked the Pilgrimage of Grace in 1536. This was the
biggest rebellion of Tudor times and started in Beverley. It could easily have toppled the Tudors and
changed the course of history had its leaders not been naïve enough to trust the word of the king.
One side of the church incorporates the wall of the adjacent barn, making for a strange and
evocative ruin out here in the back of beyond.
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As I emerged, Dave sailed past heading towards Beverley and I had to shout him to stop. He’d come
looking for me, suspecting a puncture. It just shows how easy it is when you’re concentrating on the
road or in a cycling daydream to miss points of interest. The village of Nunkeeling no longer exists.
It’s just a hamlet of scattered farms.
Dave has threatened a few times to schedule in some stops at points of interest on our routes. This
is a definite one for the future.
At Mr Moos there were a few ice cream indulgences of course. On our table, we talked about
whiskey and wildlife. Nick told us about a pied wagtail that had once nested in his clapped-out old
tractor, fit for nothing but shifting muck once a day from the barn to the muck heap. The wagtail
waited patiently every time its chicks took the trip. Dave wanted to walk down to the beach from the
café but the 10-minute walk was too much for the metal-soled-cycling-shoe diehards among us so
we cycled down to the disappearing road by Skipsea village instead for the inevitable photoshoot.
Some stopped at Bert’s on the way back but I cycled off to photograph the snowdrops.
HK
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Wind turbine Blade negotiating the Swinemoor roundabout encountered by some on our return.