Black Dog Blues

Maalie eagerly anticipated his first proper night ride when Worzel arrived at Maalie Court with bike on roof rack. It was already dark and as soon as the unpacking was complete, Maalies's handlebar was adorned with extra headlamps (below) brought up from TCA Headquarters especially for the event.

Set lights to 'stun' captain

The route was to be the tried and trusted TCA Cumbria trail, up the steep hill through Ireleth and up Moor Road to the village of Marton (the route is essentially as described here). It had been miserable and rainy all day but by now the clouds had rolled away revealing a star-lit night with Orion rising on his side on the Eastern horizon, behind the wind farm (refer to previous link).

Although the primary objective was the Black Dog at Dalton, Maalie's suggestion of stopping off for a quickie at the New Inn, Marton (an isolated pub he had discovered on a previous ride) was not spurned by Worzel. Although the pub lights were blazing, the door appeared locked and we were already re-mounting our bikes to be on our way when the door was suddenly pulled open from the inside with much creaking by the publican who declared "you have to push hard". Maalie suggested that a note to this effect might be attached to the door in order not to deter other customers.

Toast to absent friends
New Inn, Marton

We were the only customers and Worzel was soon engaged in an intense conversation with the barmaid about rearing babies (below). Maalie enquired about the prospects for New Year's Eve. Suddenly the TCA Director ordered "Drink Up" and announced that we should be on our way. The evening air seemed a lot colder after the warmth of the pub and we pushed on eagerly and salivating towards the Black Dog where we expected to have dinner. Our spirits deflated like a punctured tyre as we turned the corner to find the pub shrouded in darkness. Not a sign of life. Dead as a doornail. Ho hum. Oh well, said Worzel,there's always the Chinese takeaway in Askam. It was now after 8.00pm and the thought of a special fried rice suddenly sounded very attractive to Maalie. We descended rapidly through Ireleth into Askam and proceeded along the main street. But the only lights shining were the newly erected Christmas lights on the houses. The Chinese Takeaway looked as black as the Black Dog. Hmmmph!

As a last resort, Maalie had in his kitchen the remains of a casserole of road-killed pheasant. This, supplemented by his entire potato supply (all two of them), went down well, followed by chunks of cheese and toast, and butterscotch Angel Delight. All washed down with a rather nice bottle of Cotes du Rhone Villages.

We must remember that Monday night in December is not a good time to expect social facilities in Cumbria.

(Posted by: Maalie)